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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380441">Left Wanting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfox38/pseuds/demonfox38'>demonfox38</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lupin III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hangover, Lost and Found Families, Reminiscing, Takes place sometime between ''Fuma Conspiracy'' and ''Stolen Lupin''/ ''Goodbye Partner''</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:29:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfox38/pseuds/demonfox38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They carry the same picture in their pockets--of a family they never had. But, have Jigen and Goemon found something better?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Lupin III Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Left Wanting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts"></a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was a request for the 2020 Lupin Big Bang event. The prompt was left pretty open for interpretation, so I wandered in several routes until falling into this. It's a bit more domestic than my standard fare, but hopefully, there's still a good taste to it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Damn it all. He just wanted to make coffee.</p><p>Jigen lingered in the living room, staring at the breakfast bar. Powder blue cotton draped over its end, darker pleats wrinkled and crooked between barstool legs. White porcelain was a red flag. It steeped alcohol onto tiled countertops, sticking to skin and tokkuri alike. Wood and metal fell to the floor, Zantetsuken slipping from fingers too clumsy to hold it any longer. A taste bitterer than coffee settled on Jigen's tongue. Well, this explained why Goemon never made it to bed last night. Not that he wasn't used to his partner spending the night on the couch or outdoors meditating or something like that. Just not this.</p><p>It was supposed to be his skinny ass up moping and drinking all hours of the night. Not Goemon.</p><p>There was no need to talk. Just cleanup to do. Jigen approached the slumped samurai, peeling his tokkuri set from the countertops. Alcohol gave way to his tugs, but not without sticky strands. He grimaced. That would have to be scrubbed up later. A satisfying weight in his right hand gave him some comfort. Goemon hadn't drank the entire pitcher of sake. Just enough to knock him out.</p><p>Hissing water brought no sign of consciousness from him. Jigen's whistle went low, muted by the sink. He looked over his shoulder, checking the state of their trash bin. It was mostly empty, lined with a fresh bag. Good. Goemon was going to need it when he woke up.</p><p>Water for coffee. Water for dishes. Water for Goemon. Jigen paused in his cleaning, switching the water from hot to cold. Smooth glass flushed dewy with condensation. He left it at the samurai's right hand, letting it drip against flushed skin. Sharp fangs flashed in a crooked smile. For being descended from thieves, Goemon was ill fit for his duties. That damned sincerity of his always gave him away, burned him like a brand.</p><p>A white corner wiggled beneath his arm.</p><p>It begged for Jigen's attention.</p><p>The marksmen leaned his head back. No, no. He shouldn't peek. Whatever that was pinned beneath Goemon was not for Jigen's eyes. Besides, his hands were wet with sink water. The dish towel was oh so far away, tucked into the oven's handle. Not that far for spindly fingers, though. They crept dry, clean to what Goemon clutched. Skin stuck to film, sweaty as Jigen tugged its catch free. For a man who clung to his katana like a dog to its bone, Goemon gave up his secret all too easily.</p><p>Perhaps it hurt too much to keep it anymore.</p><p>Jigen leaned against the counter, studying what brought Goemon so much grief. It was such a little thing. A photo—a Polaroid, color, four by four inches. A young lady, smiling, exhausted. Jigen remembered her. Not so much the child tucked against her chest. He sighed, understanding everything without a single word.</p><p>Murasaki had a baby.</p><p>It wasn't Goemon's.</p><p>"She named her Umeko."</p><p>Oh, good. Some sign of life from the samurai. Jigen laid the photo back down, letting it rest against Goemon's arm. "Traditional."</p><p>Black hair rubbed against the counter in a slow, flattened nod.</p><p>Bubbling coffee gave Jigen space. He left the breakfast bar, lacquer shining in his left hand. Dark was his coffee, darker his thoughts. He let them all wallow. Caffeine would help them now. Nicotine, later. Although, maybe smoking was just moving the darkness within him from one organ to another.</p><p>"I…uh…" It was easier to talk about this sitting down. Jigen climbed into the barstool to Goemon's left, lacing his legs through their supports. "I didn't know you were still keeping in touch with Murasaki."</p><p>"I am."</p><p>Jigen nodded his head. Goemon really was a masochist in all forms. "What's it been, five years?"</p><p>"Since I jilted her?" The samurai's tongue cut as sharp as his sword. "Yes."</p><p>Oh, boy. Thin lips pursed, whistling again. He should have known that was a sore subject. It was Goemon's fault. Not that pointing that out would help anything. Jigen knew better than to antagonize a wounded animal.</p><p>Honed fingers fidgeted against his coffee mug. "Can I ask about…you know…"</p><p>"Her husband?" Goemon mumbled.</p><p>Jigen clicked his tongue. At least Goemon wasn't beating around the bush. "Yeah."</p><p>"He's a true gentleman." The first stirrings of life came through Goemon's fingers. They waved inches off the countertop, smooth with his praise. "He's patient. Sensible. An accountant, of all things."</p><p>Jigen snorted. "What a pivot!"</p><p>Goemon nodded, his laugh small, drowsy. "Quite."</p><p>Neither man could blame Murasaki. Not the one of five years ago, and not the one now. Being young was hard, a young woman harder still. Their dreams were beautiful, delicate, all too easily ruined by time and nature. Jigen stared at a downed head, the hair and fabric that fell loose. Goemon was someone's dream, something glanced through fleeting mist in bamboo forests. No wonder Murasaki wanted him, once upon a time. But, how would such a dream have ended? What would reality with a man like that do to someone so small and sweet?</p><p>Such a future haunted Goemon. "I…I couldn't believe it, when she told me she was getting married."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>Goemon rolled his head towards Jigen, not yet strong enough to open his eyes. "He didn't seem like her type."</p><p>"What?" Jigen cracked. "Domestic?"</p><p>Goemon's laugh was hot, bitter.</p><p>New energy curled in anxious fingers. They left the heat of Jigen's coffee mug, relocating to the back of Goemon's neck. Both surfaces felt hot, sticky. Jigen kneaded past hair, ghosting over the rise and fall of vertebrae. Muscles felt as hard as bones. They twitched, sweat, flowed with the circles he wove.</p><p>Jigen lowered his coffee mug, then his eyes. "I hate to tell you, Goemon, but marrying her would have been a mistake."</p><p>A sluggish skull nodded. "I know."</p><p>"First of all, your jobs with us? Kaput. Your training? Done." Jigen's hand cut through the air, leveling Goemon's life. "You can't run off to go sit under waterfalls or get in sword fights with ninjas when you've got a little lady waiting for you to come home and eat dinner."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>Jigen twisted his neck parallel to Goemon's. "You would have to get an actual job. Like, one with a steady salary. One you show up at five, six days a week for the rest of your friggen' life."</p><p>Goemon tilted his chin up, resting it on his forearms. "I can cook."</p><p>"Can you run a cash register?"</p><p>"Well—"</p><p>"A computer?"</p><p>That was enough for Jigen to crack a glare from Goemon's left eye. "You don't need to use computers for every job."</p><p>Jigen grinned. "Just the good paying ones. You know. The ones you need to support a family."</p><p>That black eye sunk once more, the whole of Goemon's head rolling towards his chest.</p><p>The hunter leaned in, unwilling to let his prey escape. "Plus, you would have had to perform some…husbandly duties."</p><p>"Jigen, please."</p><p>Words stained with coffee fell from slim lips. "I never even saw you kiss that girl."</p><p>The best argument Goemon could articulate from within his sleeves was a long groan.</p><p>A pitying sigh pulled Jigen back. Nothing good came from antagonizing Goemon. At the very least, Jigen did not need a shave from Zantetsuken. He opened his jacket, flipping his billfold out. Fair was fair. Goemon had shown him his wounds. Jigen could do the same.</p><p>Another white square landed beside Goemon's photograph. Like a goddess from her cave, the image drew Goemon from within his robes. His eyes opened, lifting ever-so-slightly for the photo's contents. There was a small girl sitting on her mother's lap, lace ruffling over frilly skirts. Mother and daughter had their fingers against black and white keys. It was such a patient moment, an instant of art and skill shared. One Jigen carried against his heart.</p><p>"She's cute," Goemon murmured.</p><p>"Yeah," Jigen agreed. "Because I'm not her dad."</p><p>Long hair fluttered against wane cheeks. "Don't talk like that."</p><p>"She would have been doomed to a lifetime of this." Jigen pulled on a frayed tendril from the mess at his shoulders, the ends poofing like ruffled feathers. He then shoved his fingers through the wayward sweep of his beard. "Not to mention this!"</p><p>Goemon's face pinched. "She would not have had your beard, Jigen."</p><p>"Girls get chin hairs too, Goemon." Jigen smiled, then propped his right hand on his knee. "That girl would have had a lot of plucking to do."</p><p>Discussing the secret rituals of women was a bit much for Goemon. He pulled back, shaking his head. Jigen laughed, then leaned forward, studying the photo while perched against Goemon's shoulder. God, he missed Riley. He wouldn't get to know her daughter. And yet, he could have been the one with his hands on the camera, watching them play together, listening to discordant music and laughter.</p><p>What a beautiful dream. What a painful lie, to tell himself that he could have had it.</p><p>"No daughter would want me for a daddy." Jigen shook his head, angry at himself for daring to dream. "Couldn’t take me anywhere. Certainly, not to school for Career Day."</p><p>Goemon blinked.</p><p>"It's a thing where kids take their parents to school to talk about their jobs."</p><p>"I supposed that," Goemon clarified. "But, to say something so harsh—"</p><p>"C'mon, Goemon. Think about it," Jigen rumbled. "With a job like mine? I can't have kids. Certainly, not sweet little girls. All I'd be to a kid is a liability. A friggen' biohazard."</p><p>Black hair fell slow, smoothly. "I am sorry you feel that way."</p><p>Great. The pity party was officially underway. Goemon felt bad. Jigen felt bad. They might as well feel bad about the same things together. It wasn't something he could talk to Lupin about. Certainly, not Fujiko. At least here, he could drain—run as black as the coffee in his cup.</p><p>Long, thin fingers rested against his wrist. "I…feel safer, when you are here."</p><p>Jigen took a sip, hiding his snicker. "Yeah?"</p><p>"Your daughter would have felt the same way," Goemon murmured.</p><p>Oh, damn it. He just had to be genuine. Jigen lowered his cup, his smile sticking to his teeth. "Yours, too."</p><p>Hot and cold beverages ran together. The assassins sat in silence, their brooding fading with their shadows. Their abandoned dreams laid side by side, corners overlapping. Jigen looked at them down his nose. Yeah, sure. They were getting the Lupin lifestyle—a life of fast cars, excitement, opulence, danger. A dream unfulfilled would always glow soft, sing sweet.</p><p>"You know," Jigen smirked, "Lupin would get you a baby if you asked him."</p><p>Goemon cringed. "I do not want Lupin to kidnap a child."</p><p>That bitter face brought joy to Jigen's. "Just thought I should put it out there."</p><p>Goemon nodded, his spirit lifting for just a moment. Anchors pulled it down with his shoulders. It was hard to laugh off a wound. Jigen knew that all too well. He just wished he had the right analgesic for Goemon's pain. Something more effective than sake.</p><p>"Hey." Jigen nudged Goemon. He nodded upwards, as if there were something to see on the ceiling. "Do you want this?"</p><p>Thin lips curled. They couldn't fight the burden drowning Goemon. "My family deserves to have—"</p><p>"I'm not talking about your friggen' family, Goemon." Jigen held his left wrist tight, shaking it with each word. "Is this what you want?"</p><p>That damned old stoicism of Goemon's petrified his face. It didn't stop the waterfall now testing him. Tears bubbled with embarrassment, hot skin boiling hotter. Jigen tried his best not to laugh. That sake was fighting to get out of him. It just had to pick the most painful path to take.</p><p>Shame softened Goemon's voice. "I want to meet my fate without regrets. It is the path all samurai must take. But…"</p><p>"But what?"</p><p>Goemon's head sank. "I shouldn't want anything."</p><p>Jigen's eyes snapped in their sockets. "You put that Buddhist crap back up your ass and tell me the truth, Goemon."</p><p>The rudeness of Jigen's words was enough to shock Goemon's brain. Base neurons malnourished by suppression roared to life, hungry. They flickered red in corpuscles, gleaming in the base of black irises. Air pushed to the bottom of his lungs, straining against tight sarashi. There was life in him again, some fire glimmering under a tide of sake.</p><p>"I want…this." Goemon squeezed against his fallen sword. "I want challenges. Confrontation. Trials. Tests." His face fell stern, somber, ever the living image of a samurai. "I want to prove myself. I want to be worthy of the life I have been given. And I want…"</p><p>The longing way he stared at Jigen ached harder than a punch to the solar plexus.</p><p>Another stubborn wave of silence rose up. It came not out of sorrow, but surprise. Jigen grinned. This was water he was much more comfortable wading into. He yanked his barstool forward, nudging boney knees into draping pleats. This was dangerous territory for a sniper. And yet, somehow, Jigen was not afraid to be in it.</p><p>He pushed his empty coffee mug aside, letting it roll onto its handle. "Want to know what I want?"</p><p>Slowly, carefully, Goemon nodded.</p><p>Jigen bobbed his head at his discarded cup. "I want coffee." He patted his chest, just where one pocket bulged. "I want cigarettes." His joints popped as he twisted his shoulders. "I want to wake up in the morning without every damn bone in my body hurting."</p><p>Polite fingers could not hold back Goemon's rude laughter.</p><p>Jigen's pointed towards the hall. "I want Lupin to come marching down there and tell me he's got some stupid plan. I want to call him an idiot and curse at him in a thousand new ways. Then, I want to do it anyway."</p><p>Goemon smiled, listing in his seat. "He does make such fun plans."</p><p>"Fun?" Jigen snickered.</p><p>New fire flickered in Goemon's face. He tried to snuff it out in the corner of Jigen's shoulder. "I may be hung over."</p><p>"No shit." A spindly arm swooped over black hair, taking it deeper into his side. "I'd like to be hung over, too. I'd like to drink myself stupid and smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in an hour and eat the drippiest, greasiest pizza I can find while wearing the nicest suit I can afford."</p><p>"And then bitch about the dry cleaning?" Goemon mumbled.</p><p>Jigen glimmered with glee. "And then bitch about the dry cleaning!"</p><p>Laughter bounced within their ribs. He squeezed against Goemon's shoulders, drawing just a little more. Idiocy and ingenuity wrapped around the same ring. So too did joy and despair. He could feel Goemon turn through it, draw up, dry out.</p><p>Frayed and smoothed temples leaned against each other. "I want to know that when we're stuck in traffic—when some sick sons of bitches are shooting at us—that you've got our asses covered. That you're going to launch out of the back of the car and chop those pricks in half."</p><p>Tan skin burned darker—scalded Jigen's cheek. "I want the Fiat at my back. Lupin at the wheel. Your eyes…"</p><p>"On you?"</p><p>Goemon curled up. "It's—It's a false confidence, but…"</p><p>Oh yeah. It was all a big con job. Bluffs were how men like Jigen and Lupin survived. Lies kept Fujiko above ground and in the black. Honesty whittled Goemon down. It cut to what was real in him, what should grow brash and arrogant. He should be proud of his skill. Jigen was.</p><p>Goemon was real. Unreal. Here, but shouldn't be.</p><p>An infuriating, amazing paradox.</p><p>Jigen's hands tightened on sharp shoulders, fearless of the cut they could leave. "I want you." He pushed their heads toward the living room. "I want you, and me, and Lupin on that couch, watching stupid movies on that godawful TV and spinning diamonds like dreidels on the friggen' coffee table."</p><p>An undignified sniffle came from a dignified nose. "And Fujiko."</p><p>"You two dingdongs can have Fujiko."</p><p>Laughter rolled soft and warm onto Jigen's neck. A sweet breath was stained sour, alcohol swirling in heavy vapors. Hoo, boy. Goemon really did have too much to drink. It was hard to remember that beneath that clothing and posture and attitude was a stretch of muscle little bigger than Lupin. Goemon may have been built for fighting, but not for drinking.</p><p>Long limbs stretched behind Jigen's spine. "I want more nights where we share hot pots."</p><p>For someone who hadn't had breakfast, that sounded amazing. "And steal all of the meat before Lupin can get any?"</p><p>"Yes!" The weight around Goemon's neck finally dropped. "And I want to go fishing again. Just spend some time at the sea."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>Goemon loosened his grip around Jigen. "We don't even have to catch anything."</p><p>Thin lips buzzed as Jigen blew a raspberry. "It'd be a wasted trip."</p><p>"I suppose, in some ways." Something distant pulled Goemon's voice away. It petered softly through the kitchen, falling in droplets. "But, then we drive home. You and Lupin smoke, and it trails like clouds down the side of the car. I lay in the back, watch it all pass by, count the stars through glass and trees…"</p><p>It was morning. Purple, red, orange, pink. Vibrant, streaking over their backs.</p><p>Jigen could see midnight ripple through black, shining irises.</p><p>Time and reality collapsed with his eyelids closing. "And you fall asleep."</p><p>"And you touch my shoulder when we arrive at our destination."</p><p>Jigen laughed. "And you yawn and stumble inside."</p><p>"And you leave your jacket on the chair closest to the door."</p><p>"And you still have to brush your teeth, no matter how late it is."</p><p>"And you take the ashtray to our room, no matter if you are smoking or not."</p><p>Our room. How strange the phrase sounded. Jigen didn't share rooms. Not for decades—not since he lived crammed in a little apartment with his folks. He was a grown-ass man, and he needed his space. But, no matter the hideout they had, no matter how many rooms were in it, they always found each other sleeping in the same spot.</p><p>Maybe choices were limited. Maybe Jigen didn't trust Fujiko if he didn't have at least one eyeball on her. Maybe Lupin was just too damn loud or messy or always dragging a girl into their space. Maybe Goemon was just the cleanest, the quietest, the least likely to cause problems.</p><p>Maybe Jigen was looking for an excuse.</p><p>Maybe he didn't need one.</p><p>"And…" His words dragged like an unlit cloud of smoke from his teeth. "You tuck yourself in, and you go back to sleep."</p><p>That proud body beside him listed. "And I hear you breathe, deep within my dreams."</p><p>Their surreal lull ended with a blunt truth. "And then Lupin starts banging his headboard into the walls."</p><p>Goemon nodded, his laughter curled up. "He can do that, if he wants."</p><p>"Sure," Jigen agreed. "And it'll piss me off every time."</p><p>Wants. Wishes. Needs. They all seemed to swirl into the same meaning, desires bottled and corked. Jigen stared at his empty coffee mug, listening to the brew still bubbling in the far corner of the kitchen. More coffee would be nice. Breakfast. A shower.</p><p>Ah, damn it all. Why did he have to need more than this?</p><p>Jigen patted Goemon's shoulder, letting him go. "I'm going to get more coffee."</p><p>"Yes." Snow rolled where fire once burned. "I…I may need the trash bin."</p><p>A pitying sigh left Jigen's smirk. He tapped on Murasaki's photo, his voice cloying in its mockery. "You're not going to throw something this cute away, are you?"</p><p>Goemon shook his head. "No. I—"</p><p>Only tight lips and trained fingers held back the last of Goemon's regrets.</p><p>Jigen bolted for the trash bin. He pushed his partner's head in, yanking as much hair back as he could before Goemon vomited. A pitying crow parted his own teeth. Poor guy. They really had to get his tolerance trained up. If not to prevent more mornings like this, then at least to keep Fujiko from drinking him under the table time and time again.</p><p>More stumbling caught his attention. Jigen glanced up, finding long limbs dragging a goofy grin through the halls. Well, hell. It was about time Lupin got up. He probably could use a few minutes in the bathroom mirror, though. Half of his hair was spiraled around, mussed from spinning circles in bed.</p><p>"Morning, Jigen. Goemon." He peeked into the trash bin, then immediately regretted it. "Rough night?"  </p><p>"Yes." Goemon managed to right himself. "Sorry."</p><p>"Hey. Any day you puke only in the trashcan's a good day." He scanned around the room, finding the source of Goemon's illness. "Oh, hey! Murasaki had a baby! When in the heck did that happen?"</p><p>Despite the situation, Goemon smiled. "A few weeks ago."</p><p>"Nice," Lupin snickered. "Yours would have been way cuter, you know."</p><p>Goemon did not have a lot of grace to spare. Never-the-less, he tried. "Thank you."</p><p>"Not as cute as mine could have been, though!" With a thwip and a thwack, Lupin pulled out one more photo. "Check this girl out!"</p><p>Tired eyes only narrowed further. There was no contest without Lupin throwing his hat in the ring. And, to be fair, the baby he carried in his billfold was just as cute as the ones Goemon and Jigen had. Still, it was hard to believe Lupin had the photo for purely sentimental reasons. Not when it was a photo of the kid being breastfed.</p><p>It was Jigen's job to call bullshit on his boss. So, he did. "You just kept that because you could see her mother's knockers in it, didn't you?"</p><p>"Hey. I know where to see boobies when I want them." With that, Lupin put the photo away. "So, gentlemen! What do you want to do today?"</p><p>Both of them had spent enough time on their own dreams. Jigen was more than glad to deal with someone who already knew what he wanted. "Whatever's on your mind, Boss."</p><p>"Fabulous." Lupin clapped his hands, already amused. "There's this little beach I have in mind. We should pay it a visit, if you're both up to it."</p><p>Goemon threw up a thumb, then threw up again.</p><p>Jigen put one hand on Goemon's back, looping his other elbow into the nearest barstool. "There wouldn't be any Fujiko-related reasons for visiting this beach, would there? Because if there are, I'm going to start throwing up, too."</p><p>Lupin pouted, then shook his head. "Not this time. But, there is a banana stand!"</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Well, there's always money in a banana stand."</p><p>Jigen thumped his right hand into the barstool, careful not to whack Goemon with his left. "How many times do I have to tell you that TV shows lie?"</p><p>Lupin shrugged. "Not enough for me to listen."</p><p>Despite all of the damage alcohol and desire caused this morning, Jigen really, really wanted a drink.</p>
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